Got You Under My Skin
by Neon Kitsune
Summary: The continuing adventures of the sisters Winchester, part II.  A friend of Sam's is accused of murder, but things get more complicated than that very quickly.
1. Friends and Family

Assume that the events of "Wendigo" through "Bloody Mary" happened pretty much as in canon. I'm pretty sure I don't want to spend the rest of my life rewriting every single episode, so I'm trying to pick the ones that really interest me.

* * *

><p>Sam could admit that being on the road with Deanne again was…not as bad as she'd been expecting. It wasn't like being with Mom, even if they were following what leads they got; Deanne, for example, did not expect her to be up and coherent at six every morning. But she could have done without the endless succession of gas stations.<p>

Not that Deanne would hear a word against her beloved car. She'd been in love with the thing since before she was old enough to be in lust with it, and Sam conceded that having a big trunk was useful. Still, it ate gas like crazy; Dee probably spent more feeding the Impala than she did feeding herself.

Sam was checking her email as they pulled in to yet another gas station. Deanne let her drive sometimes, but today was not one of those times.

Sam had played more Bejeweled in the last few weeks than in the entirety of her previous life.

"All right, I figure we'll get to Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight," Deanne said as she stopped the car. Sam, skimming subject lines, said nothing. "Sam listens to Britney Spears."

Sam cut her eyes in Deanne's direction and said, "I'm listening. I'm just busy."

"Busy doing what?" Deanne asked.

Sam hefted her phone in illustration and said, "Checking emails." Deanne opened her door and Sam had a moment of hope that was the end of the conversation, but as she was getting out her sister said—patiently, as if extracting information from a small child—"Emails from who?" Deanne walked around to the gas pump and ran her card through it.

Sam sighed and said, "From my friends at Stanford."

Deanne paused in the midst of removing the nozzle from its hook. "You're kidding," she said. "You still keep in touch with your college buddies?"

Sam looked up from her phone, since clearly she wasn't getting any reading done right now. "Yes. Why not?"

Deanne leaned on the side of the car, watching the gas pump tick. "What exactly do you tell them? About, you know, where you've been, what you've been doing?"

"I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big sister. I tell them I need some time off after Jess." Most everyone had even stopped telling her it was dangerous for two women to be on the road alone, too, which was pleasant.

"So…you _lie_ to them," Deanne said, as if she'd scored a point.

"No," Sam said, nettled. "I just…don't tell them everything."

Deanne snorted at her and said, "Yeah, that's called lying. I mean, seriously babe, I get it, telling the truth is way worse."

Sam closed her eyes and counted, but only made it to three before saying, "So what am I supposed to do? Just cut everyone out of my life?" Deanne shrugged eloquently, and Sam stared at her. "You're serious."

"Look. Yes, it sucks, but a job like this? You can't get close to people."

"You're kind of anti-social, you know that?" Sam said, and picked up her phone again.

"Yeah, whatever," Deanne muttered. That sounded like a conversation-ender to Sam, so she looked back down at her phone and scrolled further through the mails.

A subject line caught her eye: _SAM CALL ME ASAP,_ and Becca wasn't usually the all-caps type, so Sam opened the mail. She read it in increasing consternation until she said out loud, "God."

"What?" Deanne said.

"I've got an email from one of my friends, Rebecca Warren," Sam said, only half her attention on Deanne.

"She have a hot brother?" Deanne asked.

Sam shot her a look and said, "Brother, yes. Zack. And apparently he's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case."

"Seriously? What kind of people were you hanging out with, princess?"

"Dee, come on. I know Zack. He's not a killer."

Deanne said pointedly, "Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you."

"They're in Saint Louis," Sam said. "We're going." Deanne laughed and replied, "Look, I'm sorry about your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem."

Sam turned so she could meet Deanne's eyes squarely. "It is _my_ problem. They're my friends."

"Saint Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam," Deanne said. Sam stared at her, feeling her jaw set stubbornly. Deanne looked back, at least until the gas pump shut off and she had an excuse to look away. Deanne put the nozzle in its place and got back into the car. She closed the door with a little more force than necessary and glanced over, tapping her fingers on the wheel. Sam just kept staring.

"If we had a hunt you'd be out of luck," Deanne said finally, and put the Impala in gear.


	2. Two of a Kind

When they got to the address Becca had sent her, the place was…big. And impressive. Sam had known Zack and Becca came from money, but seeing it in person was actually kind of intimidating. But the door was swinging open, so Sam just climbed out of the Impala and went to hug Becca, who threw her arms around her enthusiastically with glad cries.

"If it isn't little Becky," Sam said, grinning. She was most of a foot taller than Becca—she was taller than most other women (and a fair chunk of men), but Becca was kind of short even by Sam's standards. Becca smacked her lightly on the shoulder. "You know what you can do with that little Becky crap," she said, mock petulant. They grinned at each other for a second.

"I got your email," Sam said more seriously, and the smile fell off Becca's face.

"I didn't think you'd be able to come," Becca said.

Deanne chose that moment to get in on the conversation, an extended hand and, "Hi, I'm Deanne, the big sister." She looked Becca over appraisingly; fortunately, Becca didn't seem to notice. Dee did that to pretty much everyone she met, and sometimes it caused misunderstandings.

Becca shook briefly and said "Hi" but didn't really pay much attention. "We're here to help," Sam said. "Anything we can do."

Becca nodded and started for the house, saying, "Come in," and they followed.

"Nice place," Deanne said as she shut the door behind them. The living room was large, furnished in a way that suggested both taste and the cash to pay for it, but it didn't look impersonal.

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened," Becca said. "I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zack's free."

"Where are your folks?" Sam asked, trading slightly worried glances with Deanne. Sure, they could claim to just be here for moral support, but if they were actually going to look into Zack's problem, the fewer people they had to fool the better.

"They live in Paris for half the year," Becca said, and Sam watched her sister make and quickly cover an impressed face. "They're on their way home for the trial, but it'll be a few days." She let the way into the kitchen. "Do you guys want a beer or something?"

"Sure," Deanne started, but Sam overrode her. She'd be damned if she was going to let Deanne take over this particular interaction. "No, thanks. Just, you know, tell us what happened."

Becca leaned against the counter, arms crossed and frowning. "Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing," Becca said. Her lips twitched and she started to cry as she spoke. Sam hadn't known Emily, but she was aware Becca'd liked her. "So, he called 911, and the police, when they showed up, they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30." Becca swiped at her eyes, trying to get a grip on the tears. "Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight."

Sam shook her head a little. Becca believed it, she could see that, and if she hadn't been Zack's sister the alibi would have been solid. But if the cops had a video…

An idea coming to her, Sam said slowly, "You know, maybe we could see the crime scene, Zack's place."

"We could," Deanne said, throwing her a _How are we gonna talk her into that?_ look which Becca, still trying to stop crying, missed.

"Why? I mean, what could you do?" Becca asked.

Sam took the plunge. "Well, me, not much. But Dee's a cop."

Deanne chuckled, a sound which Sam easily interpreted as _Don't lie to them, huh?_, but she said "Detective, actually."

"Really?" Becca asked, and Deanne nodded. "Where?"

Deanne, to Sam's eyes clearly just saying the first thing that came to mind, said, "Bisbee, Arizona. But I'm off-duty now."

Looking doubtful, Becca said, "You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just…I don't know."

"Bec, look," Sam said. "I know Zack didn't do this. We just have to find a way to prove he's innocent." Becca thought it over for a second. Sam tried to look encouraging.

Finally Becca sighed and said, "OK, I'm gonna go get the keys."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Deanne said, "Oh yeah, babe. You're a real straight shooter with your friends."

"Zack and Becca need our help," Sam said, trying not to sound defensive.

Deanne eyed her, but just said, "I still don't think this is our kind of problem."

"Two places at once, Dee," Sam said. "We've looked into less." Deanne shrugged, clearly not convinced.

*.*

To Deanne's poorly-concealed disappointment, they took Becca's car to Zack's condo. There was crime scene tape on the door, and Becca gave Deanne a nervous glance as she fitted the key into the lock. "You're sure this is OK," she said.

"Yeah, I'm an officer of the law," Dee said breezily. Sam was starting to wonder if that had been the best possible story to spin. Becca opened the door, but stood back as Dee and Sam stepped inside.

The place had the same casual-expensive look as Becca's folks' place, if a little more geared to people their age. But it was also a wreck; there was blood literally smeared on the walls and dried on the floor in rusty drops. It even smelled faintly, copper-and-salt, a scent you never forgot once you'd smelled it once. Sam couldn't remember when she hadn't known that smell. She turned to Becca, still on the porch, and asked, "Bec, you wanna wait outside?"

Becca shook her head and said, "No. I want to help." She ducked the police tape to enter, her face set in an expression Sam recognized: this was Becca's _I am not going to cry_ face, but it didn't look too sturdy.

"Tell us what else the police said," Sam prompted. Maybe not the best possible distraction, but they needed to know.

"Well, there's no sign of a break-in," Becca said, and there it went; she started to tear up again almost at once. "They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers—they're already talking about plea bargain." She looked around the shambles of the room. "Oh, God…."

Soothingly, Sam said, "Look, Bec, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?"

Becca shook her head, but said, "The only thing was, about a week…before. Somebody broke in here and stole some of Zack's clothes. The police, they don't think it's anything. I mean we're not that far from downtown, sometimes people get robbed." Sam nodded and drifted in the direction of a side room. Behind her Becca said absently, "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog." Sam turned, to see Deanne looking out the open door at something, presumably the dog, which had been barking nonstop since they got there. She went back to her slow circle of the rooms as the conversation continued behind her.

"What happened?" Deanne asked. Her tone was casual, but Sam knew the question wasn't.

"He just changed," Becca said.

"Do you remember when he changed?"

Becca said, "I guess around the time of the murder." She stumbled over the word a little, and Sam winced.

A few seconds later Deanne caught up with her in the hallway as she was looking at a picture of herself, Becca and Zack. It had been taken right before Zack graduated. He was standing between her and Becca, arms slung over their shoulders. All three of them were grinning. Jesse had taken that picture. The one she had in her wallet had been taken right after, with the same camera.

"So the neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed," Deanne said in an undertone, and Sam dragged her mind back to the present.

She cast Deanne a sidelong glance and said, "Animals can sense the weird."

"Yeah," Deanne said. "Maybe Fido saw something."

"So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?" Sam asked, trying to sound neutral.

In a tone that clearly said _Don't rub it in_, Deanne replied, "No." Sam looked at her skeptically. "Probably not," she amended, "but we should look at the security tape. You know, just to make sure." Sam kept her face carefully still as Becca walked up the hallway towards them. Deanne turned and said, "So, the tape. The security footage. You think your lawyers could get their hands on it? 'Cause I just don't have that kind of jurisdiction."

"I've kind of already got it. I didn't want to say anything in front of the cop," Becca said, and Deanne laughed. "I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself."

*.*

They left for Becca's place again soon after, not having picked up anything else of use at the condo. Once back Becca retrieved the tape and slid it into the VCR; apparently it was a copy of the one the police had, because all that was on it were the bits with Zack himself.

"Here he comes," Becca said. On the tape, Zack went up the sidewalk and into the house.

"Twenty-two oh four, that's just after ten," Deanne said. "You said time of death was about ten-thirty." Sam ran the tape back as Becca replied. Something was bugging her about it and she wasn't sure what.

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert, he says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with." Tape-Zack gave the camera a glance as he went past it, and Sam's stomach knotted.

"Hey Bec, can we take those beers now?" she asked.

"Oh, sure." Becca stood, and Sam twisted in her seat.

"Uh, maybe some sandwiches too?"

"What, I'm a chef now?" Becca said, but she smiled and kept going.

"What is it?" Deanne asked, all business.

"Check this out," Sam said. She rewound the tape again until the shot of Zack looking into the camera, and paused it. His eyes flashed silver in the freeze-frame.

"Well, maybe it's just a camera flare," Deanne said, but Sam could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen." Sam studied the frozen image. "You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul."

Deanne said, "Right," as if they didn't deal with weirder things every few days.

"Come on, Dee. The dog was freaking out. Maybe he saw this thing." She waved a hand at the screen. "Maybe this is some kind of double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him." _Maybe you'll get that I'm onto something,_ she thought, but she knew she didn't have to say it.

"Like a doppelganger," Deanne said, reluctant still but bowing to the evidence.

"It'd sure explain how he was in two places at once," Sam said. Not that that hypothesis was anything they could present to the legal system, and meeting her sister's eyes she knew Deanne didn't want to be the one to point that out.

"Ham or roast beef?" Becca called from the kitchen, and the moment was broken.


End file.
